Welcome to my bloggy home. Here, I strive to make you laugh like never before, cry warmhearted tears, get silly, and be naughty. Together, we'll uncover morsels of sweetness in the light and dark. You'll leave craving chocolate. That's a given. I'm a bad influence. Oy vey, am I a bad influence! {But I do recommend fair trade and organic varieties.} Please enjoy the samples, and may you fast become addicted. I hope you'll return again and again. Then once more.

One Rainbow Tribe in an Orange World (but only for now).

Tuesday, July 31, 2012

Sometimes insecurities wreak havoc with the creative process. Because of this, Alex J. Cavanaughfounded
the blogosphere's one-and-only Insecure Writer’s Support Group. We’re posting monthly, exposing our
vulnerabilities and/or offering support to one another. Please check
out
Alex’s blog to visit others’ posts. It’s a group of kind-hearted
bloggers/writers, authors and great people. Join us, if you
haven't already! All that's required is an insecurity or two hundred.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I'm winded. I've been chasing down my Insecure Self for hours. She ran off, saying something about a messed up brain. I finally found her at the local Walmart, Toys and Games Aisle #16, with Cranium in hand. Here's what unfolded:

Robyn: There you are! I've been looking all over town for you. What are you doing?

Robyn's Insecure Self (IS): Nothin', just buying a new brain. I need one. I'm tapped out these days. No creative thoughts, ideas, no jokes. It's all gone. I'm afraid it'll never come back, so I'm buying this (pointing at Cranium). Robyn: That's not a brain, silly. It's a game. I played it once. It's kind of abstract and took too much work. What was Hasbro thinking? Put it back! We're going home.A heavily tattooed blue vested Walmart employee approaches. Walmart employee: Can I help you find something?IS: Yes, I'm looking for a brain.Walmart employee: You won't find one here. He turns and walks away.IS: Oh. Thanks anyway.Robyn yanks IS's arm. Come on, we're going back to Life by Chocolate. They head home.IS: But I've lost it, I tell you. What if I can never make them laugh again? And I'm 100 or so pages into my book, and I just can't keep going. I want to take a year or decade off, without losing any time. It needs too much *bleep*n work! It's taking too *bleep*n long! All the rest of them are cranking out book after book. They're always in the creative zone. Sigh. I just want someone else's brain. Do you think Alex will give me half a braincell if I bake him brownies? Robyn: It doesn't work that way.IS: Then I'll toss in some Hot Tamales.Robyn (sighing, exasperated): What is wrong with you-me?!IS (sadly): Chocolate's gone.Robyn (with scorn): I noticed.

Robyn and IS arrive home. Robyn types this post, as IS collapses under the computer desk into a pile of pathetic whiny neurotic angst infused insecure mushy mush. Robyn looks down at IS: Get a grip on yourself!IS: Okay. She clasps onto Robyn's right ankle. Robyn rolls her eyes, while decisively pressing "Publish." Next, Robyn logs onto e-Bay to offer a melodramatic insecure self. Bidding starts at two cents.

Tuesday, July 24, 2012

Hi there! Lifted directly from
popular on-line dating sites, and embellished by my italicized snark, I now bring
us through 200 viable reasons why [not just me but] any straight, single woman
would choose celibacy. Hint: It’s a scary dating scene. Please enjoy...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

REASON
#192: Looking for a sweat honest lady

Sweetie,
even an honest lady will lie and tell you she doesn’t sweat. She perspires.

REASON
#193: TIRED BEING
TREATED LIKE YOUR A OPITION?

I don’t think so, though I can’t
be too sure.

REASON #194:Sun,sand,water,rocks,trees,mountions

Well,
five out of six ain’t bad.

REASON
#195: well well what do
we have hereI am a
somewhat educated man, I like inteligent people . well well I suggest
you complete your education. It’s missing something.

REASON
#196:You know, it's easier to sell furniture
than it is to sell myself. If I were a chair, I'd be like, "Look at this
solid freakin chair right here. Yes sir. Now that's a heckuva chair. Last you
for centuries, just look at the workmanship, that's fine... eh... oak? I think.
Probably. But whatever, just look at it..." and B.S. my way through.

Given the option, I always prefer
to take a seat. Except in this case.

REASON
#197:Floss with barbed wire or online dating?

Is this an ultimatum, an earnest
dilemma you find yourself facing, or a heartfelt offering?

REASON
#198:I can text while at work. So let's chat!

Well, I suppose that’s all most
relationships amount to nowadays. LOL. BRB. No thanx.

In response to what he’d like to do
on a first date, REASON #199 wrote:

TAKE A NAP SO IF I CAN SEE IF YOU
SNORE

NOTE*****I AM NOT ATTRACTED TO WOMEN
THAT HAVE BREAST IMPLANTS******

You
don’t like snorers with fake breasts? That leaves the field wide open for you,
unless you’re looking to date a Kardashian.

REASON #200:
I say groovy and fabulous more often than normal people do and I'm a
firecracker with my lips and tongue. Firecracker.

Saturday, July 21, 2012

It began as an everyday day. Having cleaned off a bowl of
Lucky Charms, I placed it in the kitchen sink. Everything was fine so far,
perfectly boring.

Then Dawn entered the
room. She stepped towards me with wide-eyed authority. In the next few seconds, I’d receive news I’d
never forget. Though I’d try.

“Robyn Mommy told me how babies are made. Wanna know?” Dawn allowed
no time for response.

A fragile 9 year old, I planned to avoid boys forever, at
least until after I married one. By then I’d be much older, like 22. In the
moment, though, I wasn’t at all curious about babies or boys or anything
besides going back into the den to watch Tom and Jerry.

But Dawn was a person of vast wisdom and maturity. She was
10.

So as my big sister stood inches from me on the blue and
white speckled floor, I couldn’t help but listen.

Dawn scrunched up her face in preparation. She took in a quick,
decisive breath. Next, the news spewed
forth in a tone overflowing with disgust and glory. “The man puts his penis in
the woman’s va-gi-na,” she informed, with enthusiastic emphasis on each
syllable of “va-gi-na.”

Finished with her tutorial, my big sister turned and left
the room.

I froze, confused, utterly mortified, determined to shake off
what I’d just learned…It didn’t work.

Nearly 40 years later, it still doesn't work.

And to think, it began as an everyday day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

How were you home-schooled on sex? That was it for me. [Sometimes the silent messages have the loudest impact.] I'd love your story, maybe for an article in examiner.com - in which case, I'll let you know. At any rate, I welcome your version of Home-Schooling: The Sex Talk, either in the comments section below (if it's brief) or through email (see my profile page). Thank you!

Tuesday, July 17, 2012

Today’s Dufus of the Day Award goes to the “poet” flavoring
the blogoverse with bizarre attempts at something literary, or perhaps a mere fixation on my middle name. Versions of this butchered haiku have hit Life by
Chocolate several times:

You know ALANA?

Then you know IRENE.

You know IRENE?

Then you know CHO.

And if you know all of them, morethan likely you're into

Washington with ROB LOWE.

And if you're into Washington with all these people you are gun running with
mob.

Know hownthey know this ?

SOMMARLANDPAKKE .

AMILEGST.

Influenced by Dufus’ challenged
logic, added to nighttime-sniffling-sneezing-so-you-can-rest
medicine (in short, please forgive me! I’m not well), I was moved to respond in
kind: